


crack the shutters open wide, i wanna bathe you in the light of day

by loumillerlesbian



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: (only very briefly tho), Childhood Trauma, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, yeah it gets dark but also very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 07:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17484194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loumillerlesbian/pseuds/loumillerlesbian
Summary: Lou has always been the strong one, between the two of them, as much as Debbie might like to pretend she is. But right then and there, watching her crumble in front of her, she realizes she may have been wrong. How could she miss that?





	crack the shutters open wide, i wanna bathe you in the light of day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marinavermilion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinavermilion/gifts).



> for my O8 Holiday Gift Exchange Giftee, I hope you like it!
> 
> huge thanks to [syd](archiveofourown.org/users/syd), [Adina](archiveofourown.org/users/americanhoney913) and [ShadowHaloedAngel](archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel) for helping me turn this into what it is, your ideas and beta-reading are so deeply appreciated and i love each and every one of you.

 

It's almost dark when Debbie gets home. She had needed to get out; she's been getting restless over the past few weeks, and she's not sure how much of it is simply the boredom of sitting at home with no jobs to execute and how much of it is the fact that Lou’s constant presence makes her feel like she's suffocating.

There’s nothing about Lou that justifies Debbie feeling this way, except that everything about her does. The way she has so seamlessly fit herself into Debbie’s life, into her home, and most importantly, into her heart; it's too much all at once, even if Debbie knows there's really nothing she wants more.

She struggles with the front door, laden with the day’s finds from multiple stores and a bag of groceries, a courtesy to Lou. On her own, Debbie would probably get take out every other night and live off bread and, perhaps, eggs, but Lou loves cooking and it's something Debbie has learned to appreciate greatly. Even if it means that she is the one who has to go to the supermarket and try to find everything Lou wrote down neatly on a list - as neatly as Lou could write, anyways.

She sighs at the thought of spending the evening like they do most of the time, her watching Lou cook and then wrapping up in their soft blanket - actually hers, but things have long stopped being hers and turned into theirs instead - and each other. It’s not that she doesn’t like it; she does, actually, way too much for them just being ‘best friends’.

She kicks her heels off next to the door and carefully sets down the bags to take off her coat. It's late fall and the temperatures are dropping, much to both their dismay, although the colder temperatures always hit Lou harder than her.

Picking up the groceries again, she makes her way to the open-plan kitchen to set the bag on the counter, but the second she looks across the room, she freezes.

There’s Lou, sitting curled up into a ball on the floor, completely still. She’s holding a sheet of paper in her hand but she doesn't seem to be reading it. Instead, she's staring straight ahead, at some point on the wall, and Debbie has a weird feeling well up inside her.

Carefully, quietly, she rounds the kitchen table and comes closer to Lou, trying to avoid startling her by suddenly appearing by her side. She’s right in her field of vision but Lou doesn’t react, doesn't move or acknowledge Debbie’s presence at all, and there’s a sudden cold running up Debbie’s spine. With tentative steps, she moves forward and crouches down in front of Lou, not reaching out yet because she has a feeling that Lou’s dislike for being touched applies especially right now, even if they’ve moved past that a long time ago.

“Lou?”

There’s no reaction still, and Debbie is beginning to seriously worry.

“Lou?” she tries again, firmer this time but no less quiet because she doesn’t want to scare her. Lou is already shaking violently, her body unmoving otherwise. The tentative mumbling of her name seems to get her somewhere, but she’s not sure the flash of panic in Lou’s eyes when she must see her is better than the glassy look in them. She reminds Debbie of a deer caught in the headlights, her gaze frantic and unfocused as she seems to register Debbie’s presence.

“Lou? Are you there? It’s me, it’s Debbie.”

Her calm announcement doesn’t seem to help at all because the second she tries to move closer again, Lou flinches and almost topples over backwards, her back pressed against the couch. “No!”

Reflexively, Debbie holds up her hands as she takes a step back, still crouched down at Lou’s level and wonders what the hell is going on. In their two years of knowing each other, she has never seen Lou like this. She’s never seen Lou be anything but strong and self-assured and often just a bit smug in a way that makes her even more unfairly attractive, and she doesn’t know what to do. Most of all, she doesn’t know why Lou is scared of  _her_.

“Lou, baby, shh… it’s me, I’m not going to hurt you…”

The term of endearment slips out so casually, like it always does between them and, for the first time since she’s arrived, Debbie thinks she sees some kind of recognition in Lou’s eyes, so she tries again. “Baby? Listen to me, baby, I’m right here, I’m not going to hurt you, can you hear me Lou?”

“Deb?”

Her voice is hoarse and almost breaks with the single syllable, and Debbie’s heart breaks with it. What the hell is going on?

“Yes, baby, it’s me, Debbie-” She breaks off, because she doesn’t really know what else to say. Being at a loss for words is rare for her but in the very moment she needs them, of course they fail her.

“What’s wrong, Lou? Can you talk to me?”

The wild look is still there in Lou’s eyes but it’s focused now, focused on Debbie, and that seems like a good sign. Still, she looks incredibly lost and so, so small, knees to her chest and backed against the couch, a caged animal. And there’s that letter in her hand, clutched so tightly it’s crumpled where she holds it in her fist.

Debbie slowly lifts up one hand in front of herself and makes sure Lou can see the movement. “Is it okay if I come closer, baby?”

She’s certain, despite their affinity for the pet name, that she’s never used it this often, but it seemed to be what got Lou out of her haze so she’ll keep using it until Lou hits her with a pillow to stop her.

The shake of her head Lou gives her is so small Debbie could have missed it if she weren’t watching her so closely.

“Alright, baby, I’m not going to. I’m right here.”

She slowly sits down opposite Lou and leans against the wall, never taking her eyes off Lou. With absolutely no precedent to go by, a feeling of helplessness overcomes her that she hasn’t experienced in years. She hates it.

Her best friend is in pain, if not physical then at the very least emotional, although Debbie isn’t quite sure the two haven’t mixed already, and there seems to be nothing she can do about it. It’s agonizing to watch Lou’s shaking body as she curls into herself, her breathing harsh and panting and sometimes sounding likes she’s choking, but that passes before Debbie can even think to do something. So she sits and waits and watches.

She has no idea how much time actually passes before Lou gradually stops shaking and instead begins moving, lightly rocking herself back and forth. Her breathing slowly comes more even and finally, she lets the letter drop from her hand. It almost seems like it releases her from whatever state she was in and she looks up at Debbie suddenly, still panicked but  _alive_ , and Debbie gives her a half-smile that is probably not very convincing.

“Deb?”

It’s a mere whisper that finally breaks the deafening silence between them. Debbie shifts to sit on her knees, allowing her to be on her feet in an instant if necessary but remaining at the safe distance, has to keep herself from crossing the distance. She just wants to hold Lou close and tell her it’s going to be okay, but can she?

“Lou, baby? Can I come closer?”

The panic in Lou’s eyes slowly recedes, but her face crinkles in contemplation. Debbie waits patiently and just looks at her, watching the conflict inside Lou play out on her face. She’s still hugging her legs to her chest and softly rocking herself, taking deep breaths as she thinks. It feels like an eternity to Debbie but is probably closer to five minutes until Lou finally looks up at Debbie and nods softly. “Yeah.”

Debbie nods in confirmation and tentatively crawls forward on the carpet, a soft one Lou stole for them almost a year ago because she saw Debbie eying it the day before. Her attentiveness will probably always be part of the reason Debbie loves her.

Lou exhales and takes a deep breath, letting go of her legs as she waits for Debbie to sit next to her before saying anything else.

“How long did I…?”

Debbie shrugs and looks at her watch, trying to figure out the rough time frame. “I came home about twenty minutes ago, I think?”

Lou’s eyes widen. “Fuck… that hasn’t happened in a while.” She chuckles, a bitter sound, and looks down at her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Don’t say that!” Debbie protests, perhaps a little too loudly because Lou flinches and tries to move away, immediately drawing her knees against her chest again. She’s looking at Debbie with wide-eyed fear and it shatters her heart into a million pieces. How could she be the cause of Lou’s fear?

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to-” She has to keep herself from following Lou like she usually would because so much of their relationship works without words, works with a simple look and a shared touch and the certainty that they understand each other. They always do, but not right now. Debbie has no idea what’s actually going on other than that Lou must have had the worst case of a panic attack she had ever witnessed, and she needs clarity. “Lou, what is going on?”

Lou’s heaving breaths are the only sound in the apartment save for the occasional buzz coming from their too-old fridge, but the worries in Debbie’s head are bouncing around and piling up, getting louder and louder.

Finally, Lou clears her throat as if preparing to speak, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she pushes the papers on the floor over to Debbie, barely moving her arm before wrapping it around her knees again. Hesitantly, Debbie reaches for it and picks it up, smoothing out the crumpled bottom half where Lou had clutched it in her fist.

It looks official but Debbie can’t place the header until she reads further - Australian. She begins reading, a frown forming between her brows that deepens with each line until she lets out a quiet gasp. It’s a notification of her father’s death.

She has zero idea how to react to it other than to keep reading, trying to think of  _something_ to say or do to comfort Lou. It’s generally not her greatest strength, but the fact that Lou has never really talked about her family in the two years they’ve known each other doesn’t make it any easier. When she arrives at the bottom of the letter, she sets it down slowly and looks up at Lou, who’s looking at her with an expression Debbie can’t really decipher.

“I’m so sorry,” Debbie whispers, quietly wondering if that’s what Lou wants to hear.

“Don’t be,” Lou replies with a huff. So no, apparently it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I certainly didn’t have a panic attack because I miss him so much.” She laughs bitterly. “He was a fucking asshole, nothing more. I’m glad he’s dead.”

With that, she pushes herself up off the floor and stands up, giving Debbie no room to say anything before she has walked away. “Did you get everything we need?”

“What?”

Debbie’s head whips around to see Lou standing at the kitchen counter, inspecting the different items she takes out of the grocery bag like she always does. “Did you get everything?” she repeats, tapping her finger against the counter impatiently.

Debbie gets up. “I didn’t find that spice you wanted, but you said it was optional. I did get ice cream though. Do you want me to make a trip to that one spice store to try and find it?”

“No, it’s alright.” Lou shrugs absentmindedly, inspecting the box of ice cream that’s clearly melted since Debbie got home. “Perfect timing with this,” she adds as she goes to put it in the freezer, and Debbie tries to not look too puzzled as she watches her.

She’s debating whether to say something, but she knows Lou well enough to trust that she’ll come to her if she wants to talk about it. Between the two of them, Lou is probably still better at dealing with and vocalizing her emotions, which, given Debbie’s own track record, admittedly doesn’t mean much. But still. Debbie is pretty certain she knows more about Lou than Lou does about her; she knows about what she liked to do as a child, about the cat running around on her grandmother’s farm that she wasn’t allowed to play with but still did, knows about her first love and about her time roaming the streets of New York after she'd come here on her own. She’s never realized that she doesn’t know anything about Lou’s parents.

There’s no need to push her, though. Debbie doesn’t want to ever see Lou experience what she just did again and if that had anything at all to do with her father, then she’ll gladly never ask about him.

So she walks over to Lou and hops up to sit on the counter next to the half-unpacked bag, grinning when Lou raises her eyebrow in reproach. “What are you gonna do with all of that anyways? Is it gonna be edible?”

For that, Lou swats at her arm with the leek she just picked up, narrowing her eyes at Debbie. “Don’t pretend you don’t like my cooking just because you don’t know the meals.”

“Is there gonna be meat in it?”

“You’re a literal child, Debbie, you know that? Yes, there’s gonna be chicken in it, but it would be perfectly fine without that, too.”

The annoyed front Lou puts on can’t distract Debbie from the way she’s clearly amused by Debbie’s eating habits, although those have gotten a lot better since Lou insisted on actual home cooked meals.

 

Their dinner actually turns out very edible and even though Lou complains that it could have been improved by the optional spice and that maybe there’s a pinch too much salt in it, Debbie thinks it’s absolutely perfect. It’s an unusual reversal of their roles - normally, Debbie is the perfectionist, the one worrying too much about tiny details that don’t really matter, but it’s cute to see Lou like that. There’s something special about Lou when she’s cooking, so clearly in her element that she sometimes gets lost in it. Watching her move around the kitchen, preparing the food, occasionally telling Debbie to cut this or taste that, almost makes Debbie forget about what happened earlier. Almost.

Lou asks her about what she did during the day over dinner and Debbie helps her do the dishes afterwards even without protest. She wants to make Lou feel good, so she lets her pick the program even though it’s Debbie’s day, and if Lou notices she doesn’t comment on it. They’re pretty good at pretending it’s just another normal day.

At some point Lou insists on stretching out on the couch and ends up with Debbie half on top of her, tugging her against her and wrapping her arms around her body to hold her close. It’s nothing unusual and Debbie lets it happen, relishing the comforting warmth of her. It’s little things like this that make Debbie so intensely unsure of what the hell is going on between them.

She’s always disliked being touched and she knows Lou is the same, but all it took was one night sleeping in the same bed for that to fly out the window. When she woke up the next morning, Lou was wrapped around her, their legs tangled, Debbie’s head comfortably rested in the crook of Lou’s neck. It was probably the exact moment Debbie knew she was fucked, and since then, it’s only gotten worse.

 

That night, they fall asleep quickly and with Debbie in Lou’s arms as always, holding her tight. Some nights, Debbie wonders what someone else might think if they saw them like this, if Tammy came bursting in drunk off her ass after a night of celebrating her last exam, if she’d assume they were dating. They’re so comfortable in each other’s presence it’s almost scary, but Debbie can’t quite bring herself to care if it means that she gets to fall asleep in Lou’s arms.

 

What’s not quite as comfortable is the way she’s woken up. She doesn’t know if it’s the kick to her shin or the scream that echoes through the bedroom but she jolts awake in seconds, sitting up before she can think about it.

“No!” comes Lou’s hoarse voice again, quieter this time but no less desperate and she’s kicking out into air, the blanket tangling between her legs. “No, no- don’t, please!”

“Lou!” Debbie tries to shake her awake but all she gets is a fist against her arm, way less forceful than Lou could actually hit her if she wanted to, if she was actually awake and aware of what she was doing.

“No, dad, please,” Lou whimpers now, twisting to the side with her arm thrown over her face and Debbie's insides turn.

She grabs her arms and tries to shake her again, unable to watch her any longer. What had Lou’s dad done to her that she had nightmares like this?

“Lou! For God's sake, Lou, wake up! Please, baby, you gotta wake up!”

Lou’s eyes fly open, wide with fear.

“You’re okay, baby, he isn't here, he can't hurt you anymore, do you hear me?” Debbie still has her hands on Lou’s arms but she's stroking her now, trying to comfort her and make her feel safe. It seems to be working somewhat because Lou turns on her side, blinking away the sleep and confusion before sitting up and moving so close to Debbie she's straddling her lap, reaching out for her. Debbie follows the pull without hesitation, circling her arms around Lou's waist and feeling strong arms cling to her body. She settles in, her hand guiding Lou's head down to lie on her shoulder, protective in all the ways Lou needs right now.

“Are you okay?” Lou asks, lifting her head to glance at Debbie, who can barely keep herself from laughing out loud incredulously.

“Am  _I_ okay? Lou…”

“I didn't hurt you, did I? Deb, I- did I?”

She looks so small and scared again, and Debbie feels it like a kick to her gut.

“You didn’t, don't worry.”

They’re quiet for a second because she wants to give Lou some space, a moment to calm down. That, and Debbie has to think of something to say that won't make Lou withdraw into her shell. She needs to know what's going on, and the way Lou hugs her closer and buries her face in the crook of her neck again, how she seeks out physical contact, tells her that maybe, Lou is ready to let her in.

“What happened, baby?”

It’s blunt, and she half expects Lou to grumble something like “nothing”, to kick her way out of bed and slink off to the bathroom, or to just turn over and pretend nothing happened at all. Instead, she suddenly feels something warm on her shoulder and it takes her a second to realize it’s tears - Lou’s crying, silently, on her shoulder. It almost makes Debbie tear up as well. Lou has always been the strong one, between the two of them, as much as Debbie might like to pretend she is. But right then and there, watching her crumble in front of her, she realizes she may have been wrong. How could she miss that?

She hugs her closer to her body and one hand finds Lou’s head again, stroking her hair. “Let it out, baby, I’m here,” she whispers, soothingly stroking Lou’s hair, trying to support her as best as she can. “It’s all good, I won't let anything happen to you.”

And it's true. Debbie would give anything to know Lou safe, to keep her from any danger that might present itself. Not that Lou can't take care of herself, but sometimes even the strongest punch won't help. Debbie knows that way too well.

Lou cries so quietly the only giveaways of it are the actual tears and the tiny shudders running through her body, and Debbie feels both only because they're pressed so tightly against each other.

Eventually, the tears ebb out and morph into quiet sniffling. When Lou lifts her head from Debbie’s shoulder to look at her, her eyes are swollen red and there are streaks of light gray over her cheeks, remnants of yesterday's eyeliner smudged by tears. “Thank you,” Lou whispers, voice rough and shaky.

“Of course.”

Debbie reaches out to wipe a stray tear away from Lou's cheek and lets her hand fall down to her lap, finding Lou’s almost instinctively.

Lou smiles softly before abruptly dodging Debbie’s gaze and leaning to the side to fetch herself a tissue. Debbie watches her wipe a few tears off her face and then blow her nose, and she waits for her to turn back towards her.

Their hands find each other’s once more when Lou shifts again, almost shy as she glances at her.

“Talk to me,” Debbie urges her gently, squeezing her hands in her own as a silent reminder.  _I've got you_.

Lou sighs heavily, looking at Debbie almost apologetically. “I don't- I don't  _know_ how to talk about it,” she whispers, hides her face in Debbie’s neck again and draws a deep breath. “I’ve never…”

Debbie’s hand finds the back of her head again and she gently kisses the side of her forehead, calming. “It’s okay, baby, take your time. I’m right here if you need me.”

Lou nods into her shoulder and tugs at her hand silently, turns them both around so they can lie back against the pillows. Debbie ends up leaning against the headboard with Lou half on top of her, Lou’s head pillowed on her shoulder and one arm slung over Debbie’s middle. Debbie circles her arms around her to make her feel safe, their positions reversed for once in their lives.

She holds her tight, kisses her head occasionally, and she's almost certain Lou has drifted off to sleep when suddenly, her voice rumbles through the room.

“I was eight the first time it happened.”

Debbie is stock-still, not moving a muscle, waiting patiently for Lou to continue. The silence stretches between them for what feels like hours and Lou doesn't say another word, only their breathing audible in the room.

“I hadn't cleaned my room like he asked me to, because I did my homework first.”

Debbie has a feeling that she knows where this is going, and it fills her with dread. The hand in Lou’s hair strokes softly, lightly scratching her scalp, as much for Lou’s comfort as for her own.

“He yelled at me, and I tried to tell him why I hadn't done it, and he just screamed louder and I told him I was scared-”

Lou breaks off to take a deep breath. The hand in her hair doesn't falter, but Debbie’s other hand is clenched into a fist by her side.

“And I tried to hide from him, but he grabbed my arm and hit me and it just-”

Her fingers curl into Debbie’s t-shirt and she buries her face deeper into her neck, breathing in her scent, trying to calm herself. It’s painfully obvious that the memories are clear, that she’s almost slipping back into them, and Debbie presses a small kiss to her head.

“It just got worse and worse, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do that would make him happy, make him stop hurting me, it just- it was never enough-”

“There's nothing you could have done, Lou, it wasn't your fault.”

It feels utterly inadequate to say it but she's got nothing else and she needs to say  _something_.

“Yeah, guess that's not how he saw it,” Lou huffs, then laughs bitterly. “Imagine how thrilled he was to find his daughter making out with her best friend behind the garage one day!”

Debbie wills herself to keep up her smooth stroking motions in Lou’s hair and breathes.

“He beat me up so bad I couldn't go to school for a week because there was no way I could have covered it.”

Debbie’s hand clenches and she digs her fingernails into the palm of her hand to keep herself from hitting anything. Lou doesn’t deserve this, never deserved any of it and if the bastard wasn't dead already, Debbie would have sworn she’d kill him herself.

“That was the day I decided to get the hell out of there,” Lou says, still quiet but there’s some resolve back in her voice. Debbie kisses her head again and nods softly.

“I’m glad you did.”

There’s a short moment of silence, both working to realize what Lou just shared, and Debbie feels like her mind is running running a hundred miles per hour. There’s so much she still wants to ask, wants to know, and there’s one question that comes out on top.

“What about your mom?”

Lou huffs. “She turned a blind eye, helped me cover it up and told me it wasn't so bad- he hit her too, but I guess the image was more important, you know?”

Debbie grits her teeth, anger welling up again. She can only guess that her mother must have felt as helpless as Lou herself, but still. Lou deserved so much better.

So she holds her close and strokes her back, both arms wrapped around her, breathing in her scent. It’s comforting to know Lou safe here, in her arms. She feels oddly protective, far more than she usually would and she hugs her just a little tighter, wants to make sure Lou feels grounded, that she won't slip back into those memories.

Eventually, Lou shifts and Debbie's just a little glad because her back is beginning to hurt, so she slips down on the bed to lie on her side and face Lou, who’s smiling softly at her.

“Thank you,” Lou whispers, her hand cupping Debbie’s face gently and she strokes her thumb over her cheek before leaning in and kissing her, soft and chaste, on the lips.

Debbie is frozen in surprise, her brain in overload. Lou kissing her is something she has to admit she has dreamed about, but she never thought it'd actually happen - and there's so much about this situation that isn't quite right. Lou is too emotional, too wound up to really think straight even if she meant it as anything more than a friendly ‘thank you for being there for me’ peck. But it feels so damn good, to have Lou’s lips on hers, she can't quite bring herself to pull away.

When Lou slowly leans back, her hand remains on Debbie’s cheek and they're smiling at each other. There’s apprehension in Lou’s eyes, too, but Debbie’s smile widens and she brings her hand up to Lou’s face to mirror her pose, reassuring her.

“Thank you for trusting me,” she says, and feels her heart jump when Lou looks shy and acts like she's hiding her face in the pillow.

“Let’s sleep, alright?”

Debbie nods and grins, disentangles herself from Lou only to roll over onto her other side and wait for Lou to scoot up behind her, drawing Debbie close with an arm around her waist. The familiarity of it is so damn comforting, Lou’s breath warm and steady against her neck where she nuzzles closer, and within minutes, exhaustion pulls them to sleep.

 

She would have been a fool to think things wouldn't change after that.

Things do change, but it's subtle as it’s always been between them. A touch lingering a tad longer, a bit more eye contact than usual, longer hugs and just a little more taking care of each other.

They work it out silently, adapt to the new rhythm without talking about it. They work that way, they always have, and there really is no reason for them to change anything about their relationship. At least that’s what Debbie keeps telling herself, because change is scary and really kind of unnecessary when things are going so well. Why complicate that?

But then there’s the issue that she really can’t quite stop thinking about the kiss. It feels like Lou has branded her for life, the feeling of her soft lips against her own a sensation she won’t ever be able to forget. She finds her gaze drifting to Lou’s lips when she’s cooking and her tongue peeks out to lick a bit of sauce from her mouth, she thinks about it when they’re just cuddling, hell, she even dreams about it.

 

A week and four days in, she’s done. Watching Lou drink her coffee and lick a drop of it from her lower lip, something inside her clicks into place. She has no idea if Lou even remembers what happened, but there’s something about the way Lou’s leaning against the counter next to where Debbie’s sitting on it, switching between observing the pancakes and Debbie, that strengthens her resolve.

“That kiss…”

She tries to sound casual but she’s not sure she’s successful, and there’s apprehension clearly gripping Lou as she tries not to look up too quickly. “Yeah?”

“I… kinda liked it -”

Debbie’s mumbling is barely audible as she stares at her hands, but Lou seems to hear her perfectly. Her head whips around and she looks at Debbie wide-eyed, surprised only for a second before she catches herself.

“You did?”

Debbie looks up shyly and smiles, nodding. There's a moment of hesitation as Lou registers what she just said, her eyes lighting up before she breaks into a grin.

“I can do better than that,” she says, playful, daring Debbie to come closer.

Debbie raises an eyebrow, gracefully slips off the counter and takes the final step towards Lou.

“Prove it.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think!


End file.
